Sam and Dean, Manipulated
by trenzalorean
Summary: In-progress. Whoniverse/Supernatural crossover. Sam's at Stanford when a mysterious older version of Dean appears with a vortex manipulator on his wrist, claiming he can travel through time. AU in which events transpired differently after the conclusion of Season 2. My very first fanfic ever, so please be kind!
1. Chapter 1

Basic plot premise thingy:

_AU in which the Whoniverse and the Supernatural universe are one and the same. _

_Things are also AU-ish in Dean's story, which will be explained later._

* * *

**Chapter One:**

September 29th, 2005. Palo Alto, California.

Sam Winchester can't shake the feeling he's being watched. For the past two days, he's found himself glancing over his shoulder between classes, and walking a little faster than necessary as he makes his way across the Stanford campus. It's late September and already unusually chilly, which only sets him more on-edge. A whole slew of supernatural creatures prefer the cold.

This morning he was so unnerved that he broke one of his rules, slipping a vial of holy water in his pocket as he left for class. While he kept trying to tell himself it was nothing, he couldn't ignore his gut instinct. It was too strong. So even though it goes against his code of _forcing-himself-to-live-a-normal-life_, he feels comforted when he touches his hand to his pocket and feels its bulge. Reassured, he relaxes. Forcing himself to concentrate, he lowers his eyes to his law textbook, returning his hand to his highlighter and pushing thoughts of monsters out of his mind.

The library's mostly empty, the way Sam prefers it. He's in his own quiet corner, too, up on the top floor. A study table, surrounded by bookshelves and silence. It's perfect.

It's quiet, too. There's still a couple weeks until midterms, so most students haven't started studying in earnest yet. He's getting an early start, 'cause he can't afford to do badly. He's trying for law school. Plus, he needs the extra time. His law textbook is so damn dense that he finds himself rereading the same sentence four times. It doesn't help that the sentence is half a paragraph long, and uses some terms so technical that Sam's never even heard them.

The library is quiet enough that when Sam hears the footsteps, he looses his train of thought and looks up. He's expecting it to be Jess- she told him she'd meet him for a late dinner when she finished her evening class- but it's not.

It's Dean.

He swallows and opens his mouth, ready to say something but not sure of what to say. He wants to be angry, because _whythehelldidn'tDeancall? _and _whythehellishehere? _but the expression on his brother's face silences him.

Dean's mouth is open, just like Sam's, and his lips are twitching, like he's trying to speak but can't find words. He looks terrible, a million years older than the last time Sam saw him a couple years ago, and why are there tears in his eyes? The man standing before him looks nothing like the immature older brother he left behind.

"Dean?" Sam says finally, quietly. He's trying to keep his voice level, but doesn't really succeed. "What are you doing here?"

His brother doesn't answer, only takes a few quick steps towards Sam and hugs him, suddenly and forcibly. Sam stiffens, blinking at the bookshelves behind Dean. After a too-long pause, he hugs Dean back, a little awkwardly. He clears his throat. "Why are you here?"

Dean releases him, finally, holding Sam at arm's length and scanning his face. When he finally speaks, his voice is deeper and rougher than Sam's ever heard before, and brimming with emotion.

"You need to get out of here, Sammy. We're going. I know this isn't making any sense, and I know you want to stay in school and graduate and go to law school, and marry Jess, and have an apple-pie, white picket fence, apple pie kinda life but you can't. I have to get you out of here." Dean drops his hands from his brother's shoulders and makes a move to start gathering up Sam's papers.

"Hey, stop that. And don't call me Sammy," he says, squinting at his brother in confusion. "And what're you, crazy, Dean? I'm fine here. I'm _happy_. I won't have you dragging me back into a hunter's life. I told you, I made my decision. It's not like I'm not glad to see you, but why are you even here?" He has to make a conscious effort to keep his voice low.

Dean blinks and swallows, and for a bizarre instant, he looks like he's on the verge of tears. The look vanishes as soon as it appeared, though, and Sam can't be sure he saw it.

"Sammy- Sam, can we go somewhere to talk? I need... I need to explain a bunch of crap to you, and this isn't exactly a good place."

"Fine." Sam sighs. "Okay. Lemme pack up my stuff. We can go to a bar and talk." He starts putting his stuff together when he turns back to Dean, frowning, and asks, "Wait, is Dad here? Is that why you're trying to get me outside?"

"What? No," Dean says quickly. "He doesn't know I'm here."

Sam relaxes visibly. "So where is he?" He asks as he begins shoving his papers and his textbook in his backpack and slinging it over a shoulder. He pushes his chair in, wincing at the loud scrape that breaks the library's quietness, and starts making his way to the exit. Dean follows him.

It takes Dean a full, thoughtful minute to answer his question. "Witches!" he says, sounding strangely victorious. "Hunting witches. Keller, North Dakota," he adds, like an afterthought.

"Why aren't you with him?"

"I'll explain at the bar, okay?"

Sam shrugs. Though he doesn't show it, he's glad to see his brother, even if he does look like crap. He wonders exactly how bad things were that could've aged him so much in so little time.

When they exit the library, Sam frowns, remembering the feeling of being watched, and asks, "Hey, ah, have you been following me?"

"Uh, yeah," Dean says, glancing at his brother uncomfortably. "Sorry. I wanted to make sure you were alright."

"And you didn't think about calling me to get that information?"

Dean stays quiet.

Sam raises his eyebrows. "Seriously? I've had that creepy prickly back-of-my-neck feeling for three days. I'm carrying _holy water_ in my pocket because of you."

Dean shrugs. "Just making sure. And you should keep that. Better safe than sorry."

"Making sure of what, Dean? What aren't you telling me?"

"I... need a drink," his brother mutters, and Sam rolls his eyes.

The bar is a ten minute walk away, and the remainder of the walk is spent in frustrated silence. Dean barges into his life again, expecting Sam to trust him, and he won't explain anything. Typical of Dean, even after three years. The Palo Alto air is chilly, but since it's late on a weeknight, the sidewalks are mostly empty apart from the brothers.

They get a booth at the bar, which is an older, quieter joint south of campus that didn't specifically cater to the college crowd. Dean asks for a whiskey, and Sam orders a beer. The waitress is hot, and Dean doesn't even flirt with her, so Sam knows something's really wrong. He watches his brother closely, and when the drinks arrive, he waits for Dean to take a sip before saying, "Alright, spill. Tell me why you're here, what's wrong."

Tracing the rim of his glass, his brother takes a deep breath before saying, "I really dunno how to tell you this, Sammy." Sam expects him to continue, but he doesn't, so Sam prompts him.

"Well, you came all the way here, you might as well try." He lets the 'Sammy' slide- Dean looks like he has enough on his mind as it is.

Dean snorts. "Dude, I am trying. You have no idea how many times I've played out this conversation in my head. It's just looney-tunes crazy."

"Lemme guess," Sam says, deadpan. "You're gay."

"Sorry, Sammy. I'm the straight one of the family." He's smiling, though.

"I have a girlfriend." Sam says, before frowning suddenly. "Wait, you already knew that. You mentioned Jess. How did you know her name? Exactly how long have you been following me around for, Dean?"

"Just a couple days. And that's not how I knew. That's not how I know she has a hot Smurf top she sleeps in, either." Dean smirks.

Sam's jaw drops. "Dean, tell me what is going on right now or so help me God, I will-"

"Cool it, Sam. I haven't been spying." He drums his fingers on the table. "Drop the bitch-face, I'm telling the truth. I... Fuck, if I tell you, will you give me time to explain everything before getting your panties in a twist?"

"I'm not gonna get my 'panties in a twist,' Dean. Not unless you've done something to deserve it, at least."

"Okay, okay. Just hear me out, alright, Sam?" He swirls his glass on the table, eying the liquid inside contemplatively before lifting it to his lips and draining the rest of it.

Crossing his arms, Sam tilts his head. "Go on."

"I'm from the future," Dean says, only he says it so quickly, it sounds like one word: _I'mfromthefuture._

Of course. Expecting something serious from Dean was stupid, Sam knows, but he wasn't expecting something _this _stupid.

"I'm outta here," he says, sliding out of the booth.

"No, Sammy, wait, please. Let me explain, okay?" Dean begs.

"You come all the way here for some stupid joke, Dean? I haven't seen you in over three years, and this is what you wanna tell me?" Sam doesn't sit back down, but he doesn't leave, either.

"You said you'd let me explain."

Something in his brother's voice makes him sit back down, and he sighs. "Fine. Explain. Continue." He takes another pull of his beer, and hopes Dean is paying.

"It's true. Like I said, batshit insane, right?" As he speaks, Dean pulls an object out of his jacket pocket and sets it on the table in front of him. It looks like a weird leather cuff, but when Dean fiddles with it and pulls back a flap, it has a computer thing on it, too. "Look. This thing's called a vortex manipulator, and it can go through time."

Sam studies his brother for a long moment. All of this should be a joke, and he wouldn't put it past Dean, except...

They hadn't spoken in six months, and Sam used to have the impression that Dean wouldn't confront him without good reason. Sam can't wrap his head around why Dean would suddenly pop up like this, out of the blue, just to pull a prank on him.

Staring across the table at his brother, Sam finds himself saying, "Okay, Dean. Prove it, and I'll believe you." His brother's face brightens instantly.

Glancing around the nearly empty bar suspiciously, Dean grabs the 'vortex manipulator' and stands. "Bathroom. C'mon. We don't wanna attract attention."

"Alright. Sure." There's only a little sarcasm behind his words.

Sam follows him into the single bathroom, and they lock the door behind them. The lights are dim and it's a little creepy, with cracking paint on the white walls and a dirty sink, but if there's anything the Winchester brothers are used to, it's creepy. As Dean straps the manipulator thing onto his wrist, he glances up at his younger brother and asks, "When do you wanna go? Crossing into your own timeline is apparently a no-no, by the way, so stick to something you haven't lived through." If Dean's still joking about this whole thing, it's a pretty elaborate hoax.

"July twentieth, nineteen sixty nine?" Sam asked, shrugging. Might as well go for something historic. Dean raises his eyebrows, and Sam explains, "The moon landing?"

"I knew that."

"Sure you did."

"Hey, just 'cause you're a college kid now doesn't mean I'm an idiot, bitch."

"Jerk." Sam tries to hide his smile.

Dean punches something into the buttons on his wrist, and they beep in response. "You ready, Sammy?"

"Yeah. Sure. And don't call me that."

Dean can clearly tell Sam doesn't believe him, but he grins wide, takes his brother's hand, and presses a button.

Instantly, the bathroom vanishes.

* * *

**AN:**

This is my very first fanfic _ever_ and I'd appreciate any feedback at all! The Doctor Who themes won't kick in for a few chapters, but they're coming.


	2. Chapter 2

They both blink and stumble forward as the world shifts and shakes, Dean releasing his brother's hand to catch his balance. Sam's looking around wildly the instant he steadies himself, taking a few steps back and pressing his back against the white wall suddenly behind him.

Dean looks around, smiling in satisfaction. They're in another bathroom, similar in size and shape to the last, but this one's brighter, cleaner. The walls look freshly painted, the stall door's wooden instead of plastic, and the sink looks clean and polished.

Unlike his brother, Sam is freaking out. He pulls the holy water out of his pocket and uncaps it with shaky hands, lunging at Dean and splashing it into his face.

Dean just looks pissed, but Sam's scrambling around the small bathroom, trying to find a weapon. _Not a demon, _then. He grabs the only thing handy- a plunger- and levels it at the creature pretending to be his brother, breathing heavily.

Dean wipes his face with his sleeve. "Dude, what're you gonna do, _unclog _me to death?"

"Who... and what are you?" Sam growls. "Where did you take me?"

"I told you. Moon landing, dork." Rolling his eyes, Dean pulls out a silver knife, rolls up his shirtsleeve and slices his forearm. A droplet of blood trickles from his flesh to the gray tile floor, splashing silently. "And it's me," Dean insists. "Just an older version, okay?"

Sam watches him warily from over his plunger as Dean walks over to the sink to rinse his arm. As Dean dabs at the cut with a paper towel, Sam asks, "If you're really my brother, why did you come and get me? Why are you showing me all this?"

"You don't wanna know about time travel? This is Star Trek crap, I thought you'd love it." He crumples the paper towel and tosses it into the waste basket. It bounces off the rim and lands on the floor. a few feet away Dean frowns. "And come on, you have to believe it's really me, Sammy. How else would I know about that time in first grade wh-"

"-Fine. I believe you, Dean." Sam cuts him off, not wanting to hear the end of that memory. "No one else is that bad a shot." he adds, lowering the plunger.

"Except you," Dean huffs. Sam's lips quirk into a small smile.

"So we're in 1969? Really?"

Dean raises an eyebrow. "Wanna go outside and have a look, or do you want to stay in the bathroom for the next thirty six years?" He walks over to the door, and has his hand on the handle when Sam stops him.

"Wait. What about changing the future by mistake? Creating a paradox, or something? How does this even work? What if we accidentally, I dunno, start a zombie apocalypse or something?"

"A zombie apocalypse? Try steering clear of diseased brains?"

"You know what I mean."

Dean sighs. "From what I've heard, time is a lot more flexible than we think. We can change a lot without having huge consequences, just 'cause things usually work out okay. It bounces back. The guy I got this from-" he lifted his wrist "-said things are in temporal flux. Things won't go all Twilight Zone if we step on a butterfly."

"Where exactly did you get this vortex thing from, Dean? Do you trust the guy you got it from? Is it really worth risking the universe as we know it to jump through time?"

Dean snorts. "Of course I don't trust the guy, I stole this from him." At Sam's incredulous look, he clarifies, "The guy was trying to con me. Fair's fair."

"So you _take his word for it_? Sam asks, eyebrows raised so high they disappear under his long bangs. "Are you crazy?"

"He wasn't lying."

"How do you know that? Wait, don't answer that. _You can't. _Dean, you need to take me back, right now. We can't risk this. And as soon as I'm back in 2005, you need to go back to whatever year you came from, and stop messing with this. God, I knew you were dumb, but have you read a single sci-fi story, ever? Time travel never ends well."

"I saw the Terminator, and things turned out fine, there, didn't they? Trust me on this, Sam, you're better off here than in your own timeline."

"Why, what do you know?"

"Know?" Dean tries to play stupid, but it's clear he knows what Sam's talking about.

"Yeah, Dean, what's so bad in the future that you don't want me there for it?" Dean opens his mouth to protest, but Sam doesn't give him the chance, crossing his arms and taking a step towards his brother. "If everything was going well in whatever year you're from, you'd have that version of Sam with you. So why me?"

"Sammy-"

"How many times do I have to tell you? It's Sam. Look, Dean, I'm not going to let you drag me into this blind, okay? Sure, time travel, it's cool. But I have midterms soon. The LSAT. Couldn't this wait?"

"No, Sam, it really can't." Dean says loudly- too loudly. He glances at the door and makes sure it's locked before beginning to pace, running his hand through his hair. "You wanna know why I'm here? When I'm from? I really don't think you wanna hear this, Sam. You really don't."

"Take me back, then. If you don't tell me what I'm getting into, I'm not getting into it. I told you, I'm done hunting, I'm done with all this supernatural crap we had to grow up with. Time travel included."

"That's the point!" Dean shouts. "I can't friggin' _take_ you back, Sam. You go back to Stanford, your girlfriend dies, and a couple years later, you do the same." He instantly freezes, regretting the words that just came out of his mouth.

Sam is shocked into silence, and Dean shakes his head, swallowing, trying to recover. He can't look at Sam when he says, "I'm from '09. You died two years ago, Sammy. That's why I can't take you back."

* * *

**AN: **So... what do you think so far? AU elements beginning to creep through? Let me know what you think :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Sam blinks and takes a step backwards, lips parting in surprise. He frowns at his brother, tilting his head in an expression of confusion and betrayal. "Dean?" He finally asks, but his voice comes out wrong, cracked and high-pitched to his own ears. "Dean, what happened?" he asks again, and his voice comes out stronger. "What happens to Jess, what happens to me?"

"It doesn't matter," Dean says, shaking his head. He's clearly in emotional pain, but he keeps it out of his voice with defiance. "'Cause it's not gonna happen. You're coming with me. Wherever you want, _when_ever you want, we're going. We don't need to be there when the shitstorm hits. We don't have to be a part of this. Sammy, I know..." he swallowed. "I know you wanted- I know you _want_ a white picket fence, apple pie kinda life, and I know it doesn't seem like it right now, but that's what I'm trying to give you."

"But... why can't you just tell me what happens so I can avoid it? Jess too- I can protect her. Dean, I know you wanna help, but-"

"But nothing, Sam. Jess'll only be safe if you _leave her._ Before you ask, I'm not telling you how she goes. You neither. All you need to know is that you can't go back, okay? I'm trying- I'm trying to keep you safe. Just listen to me, okay?"

Sam opens his mouth to argue, but closes it when he recognizes Dean's tone of voice. Whatever his brother lived through... it changed him. He looks tired and afraid, and Sam doesn't think he's ever seen his brother look genuinely scared like this before, so he drops the matter. If they can really travel through time, he has all the time in the world to bug Dean about it until he relents. 2005 isn't going anywhere, supposing they are actually in 1969.

Finally, he shrugs. "Okay. Alright, Dean, I'll take your word for it. For now."

Dean cocks his head in acceptance and draws his lips back in a relieved half smile. "Alright. Now if you're not scared of a little zombie apocalypse, we can go watch this giant leap for mankind, okay? "

Sam smiles a little more enthusiastically than he feels, but he's genuinely curious, and even a little excited.

Dean's smile grows as he unlocks the door and strides into the past like he owns the place. Sam follows close behind.

They walk out into the bar, which looks surprisingly similar to the one they left behind in 2005. Though it looks much newer and cleaner and is decorated differently, the layout is the same. It's buzzing, though. It's earlier in the day than when they left, with a clock on the wall reading 12:15. The bar is crowded, with most people congregated around a large, old-fashioned TV. Most people there are probably Stanford students like Sam, young and excited and neatly dressed, chatting over drinks and food.

No one pays them a second glance as they walk over to the counter and pull up stools. Blinking at the empty counter in front of him, Dean says, "Damn, I need to buy another drink."

"You got any money printed in '69 or earlier?" Sam asked, eyebrows raised.

Dean blinks and smiles cockily. "Who needs money when you have my winning personality?"

Sam snorts. "Uh, we do, if we want any drinks." But Dean's already pulling out his wallet, thumbing through the billfold that's unusually crammed with bills. Finally, victoriously, he pulls out a fiver, sliding it over to Sam with his index finger pointing just below the year: 1967.

"How'd you manage to get past money like this, man?" Sam says, sounding impressed.

"Took a pretty long time, actually. I just jumped around, getting old money where I could, you know, from collector stores? Then I jumped around to get a little dough for each decade for the past sixty years, figuring it'd come in handy. Won a couple lotteries," he smirks. "Little ones, though."

"I really shouldn't've made a big deal about messing up timelines, then, huh? If it were an issue, I'd be blowing out zombie brains as we speak." Sam shakes his head, smiling.

When the bartender swings around to them and asks what they'll have, they both ask for beers. He glances down at Sam, crooking an eyebrow, and says, "You look a bit young; I'm going to need to see your ID."

Sam reaches for his pocket when he bites his lip in realization, then smiles sheepishly. "I, ah, forgot mine. I guess I'll just have a Coke."

When the bartender leaves, Sam has to make a conscious effort to ignore his brother's smirk. Instead, he looks at his surroundings, taking in the fact that he's in a different _time._ Dean's wearing a shit-eating grin as he looks around, too. The drinks arrive, and Dean immediately grabs his and gets up, walking over to the television set. Sam follows, glass Coke-bottle in hand.

As close as they try to get, Dean can't get close enough to see the TV clearly. The small size of the screen and the large number of people huddled around it make getting close enough pretty much impossible. Sam, on the other hand, is tall enough that he can make out about half the screen by craning his neck over the heads of the other people trying to watch. He narrates the scene for his brother.

"It's just a guy talking. News guy, in a suit. Too loud to hear." He takes a step back and shrugs. "I've seen the footage before, anyway. Actually watching it isn't super important." Taking a swig of his soda, Sam walks back to his seat, and, shrugging, Dean follows him.

As soon as Dean sits down, a pretty brunette turns on her stool to face him and smiles. "It's so exciting, isn't it?"

Dean's lips automatically slide into a flirty smile. "Sure is. Outta this world." His smile grows into a cheeky grin and Sam snorts behind him.

Seemingly oblivious to the cheesiness of the joke, the girl laughs. "My name is Charlotte, what's yours? Are you a student here?" she asks him. "I haven't seen you around before."

"I'm Dean," he says, "And, nah, not a student. My brother Sammy here is. Just visiting." He jerks his head towards Sam, who turns away, rolling his eyes and smiling. Even future-Dean can't help flirting with every pretty girl with a pulse. He contents himself just looking around, watching these 1969 people walk around, talk, laugh, drink, smile. It blows his mind that, while to him, all of this is history, it's actually happening, right before his eyes. Taking a sip of his Coke, he realizes that it tastes a little different from what he's used to, then realizes why. They used to use sugar instead of corn syrup in the soda, he remembers, and somehow that little detail makes him grin.

He's ready to wander back to the TV to see how things are going when he feels a large hand on his shoulder. He starts, but before he can stand, a head leans over his shoulder and says quietly, "Sam Winchester, eh?"

* * *

**AN: **Tell me how I'm doing? :) Really enjoying writing this, but I'd love some feedback or thoughts. Thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4. **

Heart racing, Sam turns his head to face the man who spoke to him, taking in the short black hair and hard blue eyes, their coldness incongruous to the wide, easy grin.

"Captain Jack Harkness," the man continues, not moving, and Sam begins to feel _really _uncomfortable at the man's proximity.

"You and your brother," he went on, moving his hand to the counter and leaning over Sam, smiling over barely-concealed anger, "Are gonna come with me, no questions asked. Got that?"

Sam opens his mouth to say something but he can't think of what. Dean chooses this moment to notice the man, and he pales, stumbling to a standing position and moving his hand to his waist where he's hiding a- what, a knife? a gun? In a lucky moment of clarity, Dean remembers his surroundings and drops his hand, instead stepping between Jack and Sam.

"I'll give it back," he says, voice low and eyes piercing. "Just 's long as we end up in our right time, okay?"

Jack's grip on Sam's shoulder tightens, and Sam finds himself being led by the man to the bathroom, Dean trailing behind. He releases Sam, and locks the door behind Dean, extending his hand, palm up, with a scowl. "Give it back."  
Sam looks at Dean, eyes wide in realization. "Dude, _this _is the guy you stole it from? How did he find you?"

"Hitched a ride on a time machine," Jack answers. "Come on, you didn't really think that using the vortex manipulator was untraceable, did you?"

Dean actually starts blushing, then shakes it off. "It doesn't matter. How 'bout you just drop us off in the two-thousands, alright? The vortex thing's yours, we're home, no harm no foul.

"No harm no foul?" The guy laughs. "Do you have any idea what I've gone through to find you again?"

"C'mon, Jack," Dean says smoothly. "You're not a bad guy. You know I only did any of this for Sammy. Gimme a break."

"I am giving you one." Jack grabs Dean's wrist and rips off the vortex manipulator before he can react. A hurt, scared expression flickers over Dean's face, but before he can protest, Jack goes on. "I'm offering you a deal. I'll take you back to whatever year you want- _both _of you, even, which is pretty generous of me. But you gotta do something for me first."

Dean and Sam exchange a glance that clearly says, _It's not like we have a choice. _Dean nods abruptly. "What do you want us to do?"

"You're hunters, right?" Jack asks, fastening the vortex manipulator onto his own wrist and punching something in. Sam notices black tick marks on the man's arm, which he frowns at but doesn't comment on. "I need you to help me hunt something."

"Hunt what?" Dean asks. "We don't exactly _do _aliens, and I kinda doubt you have a vengeful spirit haunting your secret government organization, yeah?"

"It's not a spirit. It's a challenge."

Dean's eyebrows raise. "A challenge," he repeats. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"There's species among us, aliens probably. I need to figure out what they are and how to kill them."

"And you're coming to us for this? Like I said. We don't do little green men."

Jack takes a step towards Dean, leans in closer, and says carefully, "You do if your planet's infested with them." He pulls up his sleeve to his elbow, revealing dozens of the little black tick marks, and says, voice low, "Sightings. One mark per alien."

"Bullshit. I haven't seen a single one," Dean says, squinting at the marks. "What do they even look like, anyway?"

"You have seen them," Jack says slowly and clearly. "Because here's the kicker: the instant you look away from them, you forget you ever saw them. I can't tell you what they look like because I don't remember. The only reason I know about them is because a friend of mine told me. He's the guy who we'll be helping."

Dean says, blinking. "A creature you can't remember? How should I believe that?"

Jack smiled humorlessly. "Look at your palm."

Dean raises his hand to his face. Two black tick marks break the smooth flesh of his skin. A chill crawls down his spine. He sees Sammy do the same, to find tick marks on his own hand.

In his vision, behind his hand, he sees a strange shape, dark and lean. He moves his eyes to it, and it comes into focus. "Fuck," he breaths. "I see it. Shit, Jack, you were right. Gimme something to write with." A marker is pressed into his extended hand, and he uncaps it with surprisingly steady hands, and marks his hand again.

"I see it too," Sam says, voice shaking. "How did I forget that?" Dean sees Sam's hand grasping behind him, and he passes on the marker.

"You looked away," Jack says. "Now, since you both actually believe me right now, why don't we get a move on, before you forget you ever saw these guys, okay?"

"Sure," Dean says swallowing. "Okay." He feels Jack's hand wrap around his wrist, and he grabs his brother's wrist too.

In an instant, they vanished, all memory of the alien creature gone.

* * *

**AN**: Sorry for the long wait and the short update. I'm posting this as I'm writing. Tell me what you think, and whether I should continue!

I know Jack seems like a jerk, but Dean did steal from him. He'll probably forgive Dean pretty soon. One of Sam's puppydog looks and he'll be all better ;)


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